


empires, lions (love, beyond measure and reason)

by sparrowlingflight



Category: Mamamoo, 방탄소년단 | Bangtan Boys | BTS
Genre: F/F, F/M, M/M, Tags subject to change when I figure out what I'm writing soz, i think, very questionable narration
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-17
Updated: 2020-08-31
Packaged: 2021-03-06 02:48:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,137
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25956271
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sparrowlingflight/pseuds/sparrowlingflight
Summary: "My love, you have brought me an empire. Ask me anything, I will grant it."The softness in Hyejin's eyes is heartbreaking.Wheein takes her hands, runs her fingers over the lion's ring, presses a kiss to her knuckles. Looks at Hyejin's smiling eyes and laughs, broken."You. Just you. Always, just you,"
Relationships: Ahn Hyejin | Hwasa/Jung Wheein, Kang Seulgi/Son Seungwan | Wendy, Kim Taehyung | V/Park Jimin, Kim Yongsun | Solar/Moon Byulyi | Moonbyul
Comments: 17
Kudos: 70





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A very very very long time ago I wanted to write this fic. We'll see how far we get. Hope you like it!!

Ahn Hyejin is born into greatness. 

Every sign accompanying her birth assures it; from her mother’s conception dream of a thousand golden birds to the auspicious hour of her birth, even to her very first cries, loud and strong, which need no interpretation to say that a healthy child has been born. 

_A good omen_ the court diviners say anyway, _she will be a strong woman._ It pleases the king to hear such words and he leaves the birthing chamber soon thereafter, thoughts full of a local rebellion that needed subduing. 

Hyejin continues to cry, strong and loud and _angry_ , as the physicians bathed her in perfumed waters, dried and blessed her and finally, handed the struggling child to her mother who laughed as she took her into her arms, kissing Hyejin’s forehead to murmur, 

“You will never have to cry for want or need; you shall have the world at your feet.” 

The child fell silent at the queen’s words, staring with her wide eyes. They seemed to take the words as a promise. 

\-- 

Wheein is born quietly, taking her first breaths in small, shallow gasps. A small fire crackled in the brazier at the corner of her mother’s chambers, embers breaking and smouldering in the dark night. There was no one else there. 

With shaky hands, the young mother wiped the afterbirth from her child with damp rags and cleaned herself as best as she could manage before collapsing, exhausted, upon her pallet. She studied her child, taking in the fine covering of dark hair upon her head, her grasping fingers. 

The child looked back, unusually quiet, her mother thought, and with a strange lucidity to her gaze, uncommon to children and unsettling to behold, the longer Wheein’s mother regarded her. She had a strange recollection of the old priestesses who passed through her village on festival days, blessing the villagers with their scented oils and murmured words. The look in their eyes, solemn, sad and wise, was the look that she felt in her child’s eyes. 

The child began to stir restlessly and the mother reluctantly put her to her breast, coming to a firm decision in her mind. 

Before the sun had risen above the mountains, the babe was swaddled, placed in a basket and carefully placed outside the residence of the local lady. 

\--

Hyejin grows up fast and strong, to the proud delight of her father and the admiration of the court. Her mother merely smiles, satisfied, as Hyejin beats her peers, then the court children one, two, three years older than her in swimming the wide river that feeds the palace and running races through fields of wild flowers and grass taller than her waist. 

One tries to let her win, already aware of court politics at his age and afraid of inciting the king’s wrath should he best her but Hyejin nips that idea in the bud immediately. 

“A queen must be fair; if I don’t win fairly, then I don’t deserve to win at all,” She says, planting her hands on her hip, “And _you_ can’t be a good soldier if you don’t try your best at _all times_!” 

“Sorry,” The boy mumbles. 

“Don’t do it again.” Hyejin _orders_ and her mother smiles, pleased. 

\-- 

The lady who takes Wheein into her household is generous and charitable, as befits her station, but not much more. Wheein is entrusted to the care of the house maids and cooks, the stable hands and guards, who are quick to coo over a baby, but just as quick to lose patience with a curious five year old. 

Tact is a skill that Wheein learns early, flitting through the different quarters of the estate to figure out who will spare some food, who will protect her from the whims and rages of the older staff and who will teach her, well, _anything._

She spends most of her childhood demanding the attention of anyone, willing or not, who knows _something;_ how to cook, how sew her own clothes. How to find her way by the sun and the flights of particular birds, how to tease food from the unforgiving forest, which will only feed those who know how to traverse it. How to handle a horse. 

Her lady happens to see her around one day, wheeling on a bare-backed pony in the training paddock, the stable boy she wheedled into teaching her sweating to the side. She's suddenly reminded that she has no children. 

From that day on, Wheein’s no longer sleeping on the shared pallets in the servants’ quarters, bracketed by other girls and their soft, rhythmic breathing. She’s given her own quarters, her own pony and hounds, and her lady's last name. 

At first Wheein cries and protests, running back to the comfort of the servant’s quarters in the middle of the night, much to the household’s amusement. The girls assigned to be her service take pity on her, and carry the lightweight child back to her quarters, cooing all the way. 

_Stay,_ Wheein begs, refusing to sleep until the girls yield to stay with her. 

One of them clucks her tongue and gives Wheein a little affectionate pinch on the cheek. 

“You’re a noble now, darling.”, and Wheein doesn’t really know what that means, but she’s glad when they stay.

-

As a princess, Hyejin grows accustomed to the best. The best silks in her chamber, ivory and violet, the best morsels of food on plates chased with gold? Those are hers by right. 

The first blessings at the temple festival may go to her father but she’s second to have the fragrant oils on her brow, the smoke of piney incense wafted over her head, as the priests chant for longevity and health, for the gods of war to bless their swords and shields as their impassive countenances stare down at the crowds from their marbled stands. And why shouldn't she? All she knows since she's been born is the promise of her father's crown and the sureness with which her mother walks through the halls, as confident as the prowling lions that make up the sigil of their royal house.

If she runs wild through the palace halls, her father merely roars with laughter, calling her a little lion, casting her onto his shoulders in front of his court, reports of taxes and expenditure be damned. And what can anyone do but smile? 

Nothing.

-

Wheein’s change in status means that her days no longer seek purpose; she’s charged to the care of a host of tutors, who open their books to speak freely of history, geography and classical works. Their words unlock new worlds for Wheein, and for the first time in her life, her questions are anticipated, rewarded and encouraged, and she spends many afternoons debating with learned men, poets and scientists who pass their estate on their travels, each with fascinating stories of the world beyond their mountains. 

Sometimes her liege lady sits in on the lessons, whittling blocks of cedar or pine, listening, offering her own opinions from time to time, soft but firm in voice. When Wheein makes a particularly compelling point that forces her tutor to pause in his consideration of their argument, she’ll catch a shimmer of pride in her lady's eye.

The best days are when her liege lady walks into the breakfast hall with wooden swords and tosses one to her. 

It means mornings of drills and coaching, as she corrects her posture, her stance, her hold and grasp of the sword. Her liege has a habit of going on tangents, slipping into lectures on martial history and technique, the best fighters of the kingdom, and Wheein latches onto her words to distract from the cramps in her muscles, absorbing the stories of the war campaigns led by their king, the battles she herself fought in the vicious, still tenuous, unification of their kingdom. The world she describes seems so far removed from the tranquility of the mountains, and yet, her words raise the hairs on Wheein's arms, capture her imagination until her dreams are filled with glorious victories every night.

"War is coming," is what everyone says but Wheein doesn't really believe it until a messenger comes galloping on a lathered horse with summons for their lady to move to the capital. As part of her household, Wheein is to join the other youths training for service in the king's army.

\-- 

At the age of ten, Hyejin is placed in training with the other children, to learn the ways of the sword and shield, to train as a page for her father. She’s confident that she’ll excel at the training but she’s not so confident that she’ll grow close to her peers, which frustrates her. 

Seulgi and Seungwan are older than her, and therefore closer by the year of training they share, Taehyung’s an idiot and Jimin, the boy who tried to lose to her those many years ago, is meek, barely able to grasp his wooden sword. None of them are acceptable, _comparable_ to her and she resigns herself to working alone. 

It’s not until her father walks into the training hall, plunging everyone into silence, the ringing of the wooden swords halted, accompanied by a small, almost elfish girl, that Hyejin has the right feeling. 

The king speaks briefly; the girl is a ward of Lady Jung, now stationed in the capital. She will be training with the rest of them. This is unusual, if the murmuring in the room is anything to go by. Every other child in the room has been born and raised in the capital. It’s the first time an outsider has joined them. 

The king leaves, the girl stays. Hyejin likes the look in her eyes, calm and sure, unperturbed as she assesses the rest of them. 

The training master calls a break as he fetches new equipment, a wooden sword with a leaden core, a shield, a helmet, for the new arrival. The children swarm around her instantly, peppering her with questions. Hyejin watches from a distance, circling the crowd. 

_Where are you from? Do you know how to fight?_

“Who’re your parents?” Taehyung asks loudly, swiping a hand under his nose. Court children are used to the sigils that make up the households of nobility and such families are assumed to be the norm. The girl merely shrugs and Hyejin’s interest is piqued. 

“You’re an orphan?” Someone else calls out, Hyejin can’t quite see who. “Maybe a _bastard_.” 

There’s barely enough time for a chuckle before the girl moves, a blur to Hyejin’s eyes. One moment she’s still, the next, she’s sitting on the boy’s chest, hand fisted in his shirt. Her other hand is also fisted, just above his nose. 

Nobody moves, stunned, and expectant, except for Hyejin, who pushes her way through the crowd, reaching the girl just as she says, “Whatever I am, I can _beat_ you.” The boy nods in fear. 

Satisfied, the new girl lets go of his shirt and makes to get up, only to see Hyejin’s proffered hand before her. 

It surprises her, Hyejin can see it in her eyes and she bites her lips, waiting. The new girl studies her back, seemingly unaware of the murmuring that accompanies any movement the king’s daughter makes, and clasps her hand, rising to her feet. 

The murmuring grows louder, rising like a wave cresting as it reaches the shore.

“What’s your name?” Hyejin asks. 

The girl does not hesitate. “Wheein.” 

\-- 

For the first time in her life, Wheein is not alone. 

Hyejin is there, always, her pallet next to hers when they sleep, when they eat in the mess hall, meals of soldier's fare; bread, boiled meats and vegetables. She’s there when Wheein needs someone to complain to about the hard work they’re put through, when she confesses that she misses the familiarity of her mountain home and the even, constant supportive presence of her liege lady, who bade her farewell at the gates of the training grounds with a soft hug and promises to see her at court. 

Adjusting to the punishing training routine is made easier with Hyejin's presence; she's more familiar with the strict rules, the wake up calls before dawn, the lessons that pack their days with geography, history, military tactics and drills, drills, drills. Hyejin's the one providing a running commentary on the social hierarchy, the foundations of the institutions around them, casually pointing out her long-dead ancestors among the statues that adorn the grounds around them. Wheein reaches out to hold her hand and marvels when Hyejin grasps hers tightly, as casually as anything. 

She's there when Wheein confesses, at night, when the soft breathing of their sleeping comrades is the only sound, that she wonders about her birth parents, wonders what kind of person would leave their own child to another’s care. Whether they cared about her or not. If they miss her. 

“Of course they do.” Is Hyejin’s immediate reply. “You were their child.” 

“You don’t know that.” Wheein whispers back, but a part of her warms at Hyejin’s words. 

Eyes glowing in the dark, Hyejin stares back, steadfast. “Yes I do.” 

She reaches out a hand between their pallets and Wheein holds onto her like a lifeline. 

\-- -- -- -- ---

Having Wheein is a breath of fresh air. Hyejin finds herself thrilled by just about everything about her.

The double edged sword of her wit, flowing from sharp cutting remarks to an funny observation that has Hyejin in a fit of giggles immediately (with time, the training master just automatically scolds both of them whenever one of them falls out of line, for the assumption that where one is, the other will be involved is more often correct than not).

The wealth of knowledge that no one else has, not even the older trainees; on their hikes deep in the mountains, laden down with swords and shields and full armour, Wheein points out edible roots and berries from the poisonous and medicinal and she and Hyejin hide out to wolf down a quick snack before taking the shortcuts Hyejin knows like the back of her hand to catch up with their troop. Taehyung pouts and complains, trying to wheedle a share but Wheein just shoves him back, saying that the snacks are for _me and Hyejin, only!_

What quickly becomes apparent is that Wheein is one of the best fighters among them; her grip on the sword is sure where everyone else, still just beginning to familiarize themselves with the heft and fall of the swords, is shaky. When she moves through the moves, she's as fluid as the minnows in the streams, pulling Hyejin's eyes and distracting her all through practice, falling still to watch Wheein duck and weave, spinning through the air.

Wheein's brilliant, and Hyejin just wants to impress her all the time, tells her the history of the city around them as they patrol the streets, points out every little reference to her own illustrious house, that somehow never really blows Wheein away, and only makes Hyejin burn to achieve more- what she doesn't know. All she's really certain of is she wants to be at Wheein's side, for as long as she'll let her, to have her curious little gaze on her, to be her friend, her equal, her partner of choice.

In the evenings, when the trainees have a little free time, Hyejin finds perfectly size branches and strips them of their leaves until they're as smooth as can be.

"Teach me to fight like you," is what she asks.

Wheein always says, "Okay."

\--

It would be a lie to say Wheein isn't aware of the advantages that come when your best friend is heir to the throne. It would also be a lie to say that Wheein didn't pursue a friendship with Hyejin because of those reasons.

The children come to court for the lunar festivities, formally to partake in the festivities as official soldiers of the king's army and informally, to see their families. Hyejin's quick to introduce Wheein around the banquet hall, always with a hand around hers, and Wheein almost laughs at the way her liege lady's eyes widen to see it, her drink almost spilling from her golden cup. The touch of reverence that everyone saves for Hyejin is tangible, even though Hyejin laughs and jokes easily with everyone in the room, from the serving girls to the king himself. By sheer proximity, Wheein feels that shine, that glowing presence Hyejin emits, rubbing off on her. It's mildly intoxicating and Wheein takes a place at the king's table, at Hyejin's side, by her insistence, with wonder and disbelief. The sting of jealous eyes around the room hardly registers to her; the laughing look that Hyejin shares with her, _only her_ , is the only assurance that Wheein needs.

When the training officers yell for recruits to lead their troops in marches and parade drills, Hyejin more often than not takes the lead for their troop, raising her hand without hesitation, where the rest are learning to build their courage to volunteer. She's a natural leader, loud, for one, but quick to notice details about each of their fellow soldiers, identifying those that will cost them in the strict routines or allow them to shine in the more individual exercises. Command comes to her naturally and with time, the troop tends to look towards her as they settle as a unit. It's not hard at all for Wheein to see the queen that she will be some day and pride shines in her at the thought.

Wheein takes up the secondary command with no complaint from the others. She and Hyejin are so inseparable at this point, it's almost a given. 

Not that Wheein has any room for a superiority complex to grow; the punishing routine of training life has ground the chances of that to dust. Even so, there's a sense of responsibility with which she maintains her own evening practices, when the others have gone to rest, running through the drills and positions that she'd practiced so long ago in the mountains with her liege. The only difference is now, Hyejin's at her side in the evenings, moving through the motions, their shadows mingling in the orange grove outside the barracks.

So, while the rest of the world might be obliged to bow to Hyejin with growing reverence as befits a future queen, Wheein takes assurance in the knowledge that she will be the only one with the memories of the hot evenings perfumed with the scent of oranges, Hyejin's satisfied smirk at perfecting a sequence, the way the sweat glistens on her brow before she wipes it off.

On a whim, Wheein reaches out first one day, unthinkingly wiping Hyejin's brow. There's a pause, where Hyejin looks back, surprised, and Wheein looks back, heart jumping in her throat, and her hand hesitates before tucking a stray strand of hair delicately around Hyejin's ear. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Wheein and Hyejin are fifteen, a number of things happen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *sits up and breathes* 
> 
> hey hope you like this!!

When Wheein and Hyejin are fifteen, a number of things happen. News of the first comes on dark wings, in the middle of the night, and Hyejin is awakened by the training commander by urgent whispers. She's to ride for the palace immediately and after a brief moment of deliberation, grabs Wheein's hand to wake her.

The ride seems longer than usual, watery moonlight casting unnatural shadows across the hills and trees. Elemental shapes loom out of the murk and landmarks that should be familiar seem alien. They ride hard, without stopping, for the palace, which appears, dimly lit with torches. An unusual silence lies heavy, a tension fills the air, like the very marbled walls and columns are holding their breath. 

Hyejin rides up the palace steps and jumps off her horse, immediately received by a swarm of advisors and doctors. Her mother is with the king. They set off as a unit towards the royal chambers and Hyejin looks back instinctively for Wheein, pausing to register that Wheein has become occupied and will not be following her.

Lady Jung waits for Wheein to dismount and hand the reins of her horse and Hyejin's to the stable hands before walking up to her liege and giving her a hug.

"How-?"

"I thought you might be coming tonight, when I heard the princess had been summoned."

"The king? How is he...?"

Lady Jung beckons towards the gardens and walks off. Wheein frowns at her unusual secretiveness, and follows.

The gardens are decorated with various statues; gods and goddesses of war, fortune and victory dance and wield all manner of weaponry among rose bushes and weeping willows. Her liege sets her flaming torch in a nearby brazier and takes a seat at a bench under the leaves of a tree so old, its branches skim the ground, swaying in the night winds.

Wheein sits down and waits.

"I believe the king is fine," Lady Jung begins, carefully. "I do not think he will be fine for much longer." Wheein nods and clasps her hands together, thinking of the faint crease between Hyejin's eyebrows that has settled in of late.

There is little more to say; what the lady has said has been parsed from months of court rumours and gossip and the true details are undoubtedly tightly kept between the queen, the doctors and the bare minimum of court advisors.

"The vipers at court are restless. Strong hands are needed to keep them in hand." The unsaid question is whether Hyejin's hands are strong enough. Wheein casts her mind for some surety and finds herself uncertain in the face of such tenuous, amorphous opposition.

Her liege is a lady of little words and appears to have relayed all the information regarding the king and his health that she deems relevant for Wheein to here. Wheein casts her mind around for another topic of conversation. "How are the raids this summer?"

Lady Jung frowns deeper. "The bandits are bolder this year. They've come down further, taking livestock- goats, sheep-, burning holdfasts when they can. They must be desperate. The harvests were weak this summer."

"Will you go after them?"

"Of course." The look on her face does not seem convincing to Wheein, a dissatisfaction that tells her this action is not one that agrees with her lady. No doubt it was a direct order from the king.

Lady Jung twists her hands together, gathering her words. "The priests are calling for parabatai to take the oath and strengthen the blood." This is a surprise to Wheein; parabatai, the bound warriors, are called for in times of war, with the battle drums and flutes. Supposedly made stronger by their bond, they are the best of the best. The king and his queen were parabatai in the war that formed their fractitious kingdom.

Wheein's first thought is that Hyejin would ask her to be hers, it's unquestionable. That's apparently on her liege's mind as well, who searches her face and sighs at what she sees there.

"I'll- We'll-"

"I know,"

"Hyejin will look out for me- she already does. And I will do the same for her."

"Being the beloved of kings and queens is a difficult position to be in." Her liege's words are kind but her eyes are sad. "You have to stand by them, no matter what."

"I can do that."

"It will be more difficult than you realise." Lady Jung looks up, regarding the moon for a while, before returning to the earth, shaking her head and standing up. Wheein follows, feeling sorry for some unknown reason.

\----

Hyejin's not anywhere for Wheein to find when they return to the palace, nor does she appear as Wheein follows her liege through the hallways to her appointed chambers, bids her goodnight and takes a pallet at the hearth, still tamped down for the night, and falls into a dreamless sleep.

Sometime later, she's awakened by a prodding finger at her shoulder, a flash of cold air as the blankets lift around her. There's barely any light to see by; the skies outside are dark and icy blue but Wheein knows the touch of Hyejin's hand, as she snuggles up to her.

Wheein wraps an arm around her waist, lets Hyejin nestle under her chin and presses a kiss to her forehead. "How is he?"

Hyejin shakes her head, softly, resigned.

"How are you?" Hyejin opens her mouth to answer, quivering, before burying her face in Wheein's shoulder, shaking. The tears fall and fall and fall and Wheein clings onto her shoulders, whispering comfort and wishing she could do more, anything, more. The grip of Hyejin's hand is frightened, for once, of more than death, of more than hurt. The crown looms closer than ever and its price and promise threatens to be more than Wheein knows she can afford to pay.

Wheein holds her tight, wishing such thoughts away for just one night.

\-----

Hyejin allows no exception for them; they return to the training grounds as if they'd never left, walking into the mess hall for the remnants of their morning meal before plunging back into the day's drills and lessons. Wheein keeps an eye on Hyejin through the day, leading their troop through military formations with javelins and shields.

_Shields, up!_

She's focused, attentive to the slightest delay in reactions, as if she's not running on a few hours of rest and Wheein turns her attention to the right wing that she's leading in concert to the central body where Hyejin is.

_Spears, positions!_

" _Ready_!" Hyejin holds her fist aloft, surveying the field atop her horse. The host moves as one, a school of fish in perfect harmony.

"Ready, spears-" Wheein gives the signal that her wing is ready; across the host, Seulgi does the same and Hyejin lets her hand fall, _Spears, loose!_

Smooth as a snake, the troops surge forwards, poised and controlled, spears launching into a smooth arc across the field and falling in a deadly rain. The sound they make striking into the earth is precise and blunt.

\------

The days warm and the earth loosens and for a while, Wheein's able to focus, loose herself in the rhythm of training. Hyejin's preoccupation dissipates, save for moments in the orange grove where Wheein turns around to see Hyejin stock still, distracted from the motions of practice. She tells Wheein that those are the times when she feels she can actually think and Wheein takes the branches stripped of their leaves from her hands and sits Hyejin down under the oranges, telling her to unburden herself.

The fears of the future, the inevitable weight of the crown, are numerous and very, very real, but by the end of the evening, Hyejin's breathing isn't as shallow and the little crease in between her eyebrows has smoothened out. Wheein runs her thumb over Hyejin's cheekbone and asks, "Better?"

"What would I do without you?" Hyejin laughs, lighter than she's been in weeks, pressing her forehead to Wheein's and kiss her, thanking every god and goddess she can think of, with name or without, for bringing Wheein into her life.

\----

Peace, as a general rule, does not last long.

Their troop is in the middle of cleaning weapons in the armoury, oiling and sharpening swords and spears and daggers, when a commanding officer bursts in, long hair swinging across her shoulders, to tell all of them to report to the training halls, immediately. She runs off immediately afterwards and the look in her eyes has alarms ringing in Wheein's head.

The troops assemble and straighten at the entry of the camp's commander. His words are brief and clipped with urgency; bandits have been sighted, last seen heading towards the scholar's tower. Soldiers, not trainees, are needed now, to aid the tower and its inhabitants.

Names are called; Hyejin's troop, with Seulgi, Seungwan, Taehyung, uncharacteristically serious when he steps up, then Jimin, and then-

"Jung Wheein."

They are ordered to armour up and arm themselves. Jimin raises his hand to ask, "Sir, are the bandits to be killed or captured?" There's the slightest tremble in his voice.

The commander is blunt. "No prisoners; the palace has enough to interrogate."

\----

Breastplate, bracers and greaves, heavy and bronzed, engraved with the lions of the king's army.

Wheein ties them in place for Hyejin, tightening the leather strings before turning around for Hyejin to do the same for her. The hold of armour is a familiar embrace around her ribs by now, lightweight enough to allow one to run but able to withstand the blow of a sword. 

The unit streams out on horseback, plunging into the forested trails that lead to higher grounds. A flock of birds rises out of the trees, startled by their approach. Wheein's heard much of the scholars tower, most people have; almost all the scientists and poets, philosophers, who passed by her home had spent some amount of time there, praised its solitude and peacefulness, the beautiful gardens, the well-stocked library bearing scrolls and manuscripts of all manner of topics, treasures from far-flung corners of the globe.

Smoke rises out of the hills, and the smell is acrid.

\---

The main tower sits among a loose spiral of smaller buildings; greenhouses for growing food, and more homey abodes for the business of living. All are in disarray, ransacked, doors flung open and crates of supplies smashed. There are a few bodies, limp and diminished in death. The commander dispatches a team to salvage them, his face grim.

"Princess, take some soldiers and flush the bandits out of the woods."

Hyejin nods decisively. "There's a clearing below the mountains, we'll corner them there."

Jimin's face has paled, but to Wheein's eyes, his hands look steady and Taehyung urges his horse forward to whisper something that has Jimin's drooping shoulders loosen slightly. Others dismount to search the buildings. The tower and it's buildings, it seems, has been looted and deserted and the aftermath around them is destruction, the remnants of peace fluttering in the cool winds. Seulgi wipes tears away when she thinks no one is looking. Seungwan looks quietly furious.

Training has taught them that the time to think of losses and victories only after the fact; not on the field. It's harder to follow through in practice.

"Troops assemble. We have bandits to catch." Hyejin's words betray no emotion.

\----

The bandits didn't get far.

Seungwan is the one who spots them moving in the trees, some on foot, some urging donkeys laden down with bags and crates, no doubt the treasures of the tower. They've caught onto the chase, judging by their hurried, almost frantic movements. One of them breaks away with a sack over his shoulder, running with surprising fleet-footedness for higher, rockier ground. Hyejin glances to Wheein.

Wheein gathers her reins in hand. "That one's mine."

"I'll see you down below, then." Hyejin reaches over, places her hand on Wheein's thigh. "Be safe."

Wheein lifts her hand to her lips, kisses Hyejin's knuckles hurriedly. "You, too."

\----

Even on shaking, slippery ground, Wheein catches up to the would-be runaway easily, pacing her steed on the rocky terrain, the sheets of shale cracking under her hooves. The bandit looks over his shoulder as she comes up to him, and finally falls to his knees in terror, the sack of looted goods spilling from his hands as he cowers before her.

Wheein draws her sword as a formality, jumping off her horse to walk over and rest the tip of her sword against the bandit's exposed neck.

"Do you surrender?"

"I surrender, I-" There's something wrong with his voice. Wheein frowns, using the flat of her sword to get him to lift his chin, exposing rabbit-wide eyes set in a face still rounded with childhood.

The bandit is barely a boy. Wheein struggles to reconcile the fact with the destruction and death at the scholar's tower. Hears her commander's words, _no prisoners_ echoing in her mind.

" _Please_ -" Terror has robbed him of breath, and his words leave his lips in a choked whisper.

" _Mercy_ ,"

\----

Hyejin draws first blood when she crashes into the bandits' front line, then makes the first kill soon after, the arc of her sword throwing a red spray that marks the trees, the leaves, the pristine woods.

The air turns thick with screams, yells of defiance as the bandits rally with weapons of their own. Behind her, Jimin's bugle sounds, calling for reinforcements. Her training takes over and the world narrows to the tip of her sword, the long-practiced motions for quick and efficient killing; downward slash, a jab to the gap between the second and third ribs, aim for the uncovered neck.

As a commander, a part of her remains removed, cold and aloof, maintaining an awareness for the rest of her troop.

Taehyung's dismounted from his horse, a powerful war horse trained to kick and rear at the enemy, to fight on foot and engage two of the bandits. Seulgi's made quick work of at least three , from what Hyejin can see, almost a blur at the corner of her vision. At her back, sword clashing against a woman twice her size is Seungwan, ablaze with fury. Another soldier falls under the weight of a bandit, screaming in pain.

Her troop may be outnumbered, but by the way bodies fall like leaves in the rain, there's no contest between the many years of military training and the desperation of a starved, run-down opposition. Hyejin wheels around, trying to identify anything resembling a leader- a snake's head to cut off and disarm the whole body, and end the bloody mess.

" _Stop- stop!"_

A girl's cries rise above the din and Hyejin looks to their direction to see- ah, at last. Hyejin smiles grimly to herself; a leader.

One of the bandits has a captive in hand, her sky-blue robes and slight figure stand out among the throng of fighters. One of the scholars.

He holds a wicked blade to her throat.

"Lay down your swords!" The girl arches her neck, trying to maintain a space between her neck and the edge of the bandit's sword.

Hyejin's blood is ice cold with anger, but there's little choice to be made here. She raises her hand to call her troop to attention, allowing for a space in which the fighters can catch their breath.

"I said- _lay down your swords!"_ Hyejin notes the tremble of the man's hand in which he holds his sword, the desperation in his eyes. The girl in hand is stock-still, her dark eyes wide and flickering from side to side.

There's a gap between the man's hand and the girl's shoulder, and Hyejin can see the exposed skin of his neck. Her hand, unseen, grips the hilt of her hunting knife, thin bladed and sharp.

" _Lay down-"_

Her aim is true and her knife finds its home in the man's neck, cutting off his words with a dying cry. Around the battlefield, the fighters spring into action, drawing weapons, shouts of anger rising up.

But it's too late, for them. Hyejin can hear the hooves of reinforcements, the commander's troops coming up the pass from the clearing where they were supposed to corner the bandits. She can hear the screams of those who thought they'd gotten away from the battle.

"Please!" The scholar runs up to her horse, grabs her hand. Hyejin's surprised to see tears in her eyes. "End the fighting, these are desperate people! No one here deserves to die!"

This goes against every instinct Hyejin has. "They ruined the tower," she says, uncertain.

The scholar shakes her head frantically. "It is not ruined."

"They killed your comrades?"

Her eyes shine with unspilled tears. "No one deserves to die. They're just trying to feed their families."

Hyejin looks around the battlefield, hears the dying screams of the cornered. Her steed may be steady beneath her but in her mind, the earth has been shaken irreversibly.

"You should have spoken earlier," she spits out and rides away, searching for the commander and pushing down the guilt that wells up within her.

\----

Wheein doesn't make it to the clearing where she said she'd meet Hyejin but from the mountainside, she can see the plumes of smoke from the forests below, far too close to be anywhere near the place they'd planned on chasing the bandits too.

Battles rarely go to plan, this much is true. So instead of heading there, she turns her horse to the smoking ruins of the scholar's tower, riding with the bandit boy tied up across the back of her horse.

His sack of goods is secured to her horse as well; she'd felt a deep pang in her heart at noticing that the contents were made up of hard cheese and bread, soft fruits and vegetables. Hardly the first things one with the intent to profit would go for in the tower, but then again, books and ivoried treasures hardly filled the stomach. Perhaps the more valuable artefacts were to be traded for food but it was unlikely the little wisp of a boy had managed to squirrel anything away from more seasoned, older fighters.

The tower is in disarray when she arrives, perhaps moreso than when they had first arrived and glimpsed destruction and death. Now, there is a tent set up for medical treatment, soldiers streaming in and out with stretchers, bearing those in the lion's armour and in the rougher leather bindings of the bandits. She spies Seulgi and Seungwan hurrying in, shouting a greeting at them that they return hurriedly waving a hand in the air, their arms full of field medical supplies and bandages.

Part of their training requires them to know the basic bindings and treatments that can be applied on a battlefield until the soldiers can return to the care of medics.

Wheein considers the boy strapped to the back of her horse.

"Are you hurt at all?" she asks, carefully.

The boy looks back up at her dolefully. "I'm _hungry_."

Well then. Wheein looks around for the makeshift dining hall and directs her horse over to a tent that steams with the smell of stew. From a few feet away, she sees Jimin burst out of the tent, striding towards the medic's tent before noticing her.

"Where have you _been_ \-- who is that?" Jimin stares at the boy's back.

Wheein hasn't asked for his name which seems to her, a terrible oversight. The boy seems to be exhausted by the ride, unable to hold onto his pitch of terror and hatred. He merely sighs, closing his eyes.

Using her knife to cut the ropes binding him and his belongings, Wheein bodily hands him over to Jimin, who scrambles to catch him.

"Get him some food, please, he's been through a lot."

Jimin stares up at her, aghast. "This is a _child_." He hisses.

The boy stirs, indignant. "'M not a child."

Wheein ignores him. "Where's Hyejin?"

"They set up a command tent there." Jimin points past the tents. "I can't take care of a child."

"My _name_ is _Jungkook_."

"Hyejin needs you, I think." Wheein looks at Jimin sharply and nods, before wheeling her horse around and galloping through the camp.

\---

Wheein walks into a tent full of noise. The commander stands to one side of the room, a hand on the hilt of his sword, surrounded by the other officers, spitting fire. On the opposite side, stands a group of men and women in sky blue robes, the scholars. Wheein had thought them dead but while they seem shaken, for the most part, there's not even a scratch on them.

Hyejin sits in the middle of the room, furious, fingering her sword. There's still blood on her face.

There's a silence that falls when her commander notices her, his brow furrowing at her presence.

Hyejin merely raises her voice. "She stays."

Wheein pretends not to notice the appraising eyes that sweep her up and down, and makes her way to Hyejin's side, dropping to one knee to kiss her hand.

A sharp comment from one of the women in blue robes reignites the debate, sparking a fierce exchange that makes no sense to Wheein's tired mind. She turns to Hyejin, asking for an explanation.

The scholar's tower is burnt to a crisp, nothing more than a smoking spire; but the scholars had seen the bandits' approach and had been able to hide in massive stone archives that lay underground, able to protect the vast majority of treasures that the tower was so famed for.

Wheein shakes her head disbelieving.

"The bodies we saw?"

Hyejin's eyes darken with rage.

It appears that not all inhabitants of the tower were given a chance to run for the shelter of the tower, and the scholars had not opened the stone doors for fear of being discovered. Those left exposed had tried to fight and lost. Or worse.

Hyejin gestures to a quiet-looking girl, probably of an age to them, sitting with crossed arms at the back of the pack of scholars.

"That's Byulyi-- she was taken as a hostage by the bandits."

"Why?"

"Do you see her family crest?" A silver crescent moon shines on the chain around the girl's neck.

"The oldest daughter of the Moon family-- I never saw her at court. Rumour had it that she was sickly as a child and therefore unfit for service." For children of nobility, the options outside of military enlistment were few. Honour and glory came from the battlefield; they weren't raised to look elsewhere for it. Wheein regards the slight girl with renewed interest.

"She was the one to ask me to stop killing the bandits, saying they didn't deserve death. Apparently their village was struck by famine, near the borders."

Wheein shifts. "I chased a boy scarcely out of his mother's arms to the mountains-- only for him to fall and cut his hands. He had only food in his bag, Hyejin."

Hyejin stiffens at her words, her hands unconsciously clenching into a fist.

A lady in blue, with a ribbon wrapped around her forehead, snaps at the commander, blaming him for bringing death and destruction to their door. One of the officers retort that blame for the damage of the day lies with the scholars, for being unable to communicate their sufficient defences. 

The lady sniffs. "We expected your troops to drive the bandits away _before_ they could lay waste to our lands."

Hyejin shifts in her seat. "These lands belong to the crown."

Surprisingly, the lady merely sneers. "When the crown spares coin and men to tend to these lands, I'll say so, if you'll forgive me, my princess." Wheein's aghast to see her cast a dismissive eye over the commander and their officers. "So far, all the crown's support has gone to the army and the king's ridiculous expeditions."

An officer snarls and draws her sword. The scholar merely crosses her arms, daring her to come forth with a cool gaze.

Hyejin does not betray any emotion, but Wheein's bristling.

"You go too far. Heed your words in front of our princess." she says tightly.

The scholar acquiesces, dipping her head and stepping back into the crowd.

\----

"Thank you," Hyejin says quietly.

A voice rises out from the edges of the tent, Wheein can't tell whether it's a soldier or a scholar. "Our princess has no place here. This is talk for grown men and women."

Hyejin's face is impassive as murmurs of agreement rise around the room. Their commander raises an eyebrow, as if he's asking how Hyejin wants to proceed.

She'd listened to both sides, spilling anger as both sides outlined their grievances with the proceedings of the day, but she'd yet to hear the consideration of one party.

"Moon Byulyi." Hyejin calls out. The room falls silent.

"Step forward and tell everyone here what you told me."

Byulyi is a slight figure, with a pale face that peaks at her chin, and she seems to shrink under the gaze of so many. Her voice is soft but grows as she describes the refugees who had fled the famine to look for solace at the tower only to be turned away on the pretext of insufficient resources. How she'd been scolded by the acolytes for stealing food from the kitchens to distribute and punished by being sent to cultivate land on the farthest corner of the tower's lands.

A scholar sniffs. "These are our orders from your father, princess. Serfs are not to enter these lands. We do not owe them charity."

Hyejin levels a piercing gaze at him. "I did not take the scholars to be blind followers."

The crowd of blue bristles but no refute comes forth.

"My princess." Byulyi kneels.

"These orders came on pain of punishment from the crown. Many of us here dare not disobey these orders. I myself was only able to do so with the assurance of my family's home to fall back to. There are few who can say the same" She looks to the ground as if embarrassed to say such words out loud. A few ruffled feathers seem to be settled by her words in the crowd of blue.

Hyejin's heard how her father refers to the scholars here at the tower. To be sure, they are the premier source of the fine plays, poetry and songs that get played at court and throughout the kingdom, as well as the technological advancements that give their swords the edge they are so famed for, their steel its resilience.

They are a critical part of the kingdom, but her father has never had much respect for anyone without a sword in hand. That apparently extends to those who farm the land and provide the food they eat. Hyejin hides her grimace inside. She will _not_ be making this mistake in the future.

"There will be no punishment for your actions, at least, not from the crown, I will see to it."

"Pardon me princess, but who are you, to make such promises?" The words are not malicious in intent, merely weary with the events of the day and the long held amorphous threat that had hung over the tower.

Hyejin stands. "Believe me or not, I will see that what I say is carried out."

Next to her Wheein nods. "The bandits are not to be harmed as well."

The commander stiffens. "Princess, we have our orders-"

"I am giving a new one. They are our people as much as anyone in this room."

"They are criminals who killed and desecrated the tower!"

Hyejin snarls. "Do not test me or I will _personally_ burn your precious library. How _dare_ you place paper over human life." The room flinches. "If you are worried about my father, believe _me_ when I say he will be more pleased with a solution that benefits all parties, rather than one that leaves more bodies to bury." A heavy silence falls and the commander's brow smoothens.

"There are unused barracks at the training grounds. We can house them there," ventures one of the officers. Hyejin nods.

"For now, we feed and clothe them, treat their wounds. The dead must be buried today." Hyejin finally looks to her commander for his approval, silently apologizing for undermining his authority. She's thankful when he nods slowly, repeating her words in an authoritative voice. Hyejin relinquishes command, not without an undercurrent of reluctance. 

One last bow to seal the deal. Her commanding officers acknowledge her, having known her long enough to understand her tendency to speak out. She does see a few of the scholars mutter in discontent, probably saying something about her impertinence. They'll have to get used to her eventually.

Hyejin leaves with Wheein, as duties are divided and plans made for the evening.

"Will your father really be as understanding as you said?" Wheein finally speaks. Hyejin grins, devoid of real amusement.

"No, I don't think he will be. But he's not here, and he's certainly not in any state to oppose me." The words are mixed with pain but Hyejin's sure she can win the case, should it come to a fight with her father. Above all, a queen should look after one's subjects.

Wheein just gives a _hmph_. "Kings don't take well to disobedience, even from their own daughters."

"I'll be fine." Hyejin's mostly sure of this. "Let's go eat."

\---

"Wait," Wheein pulls her to the side, takes them to the wide river that feeds the tower and its inhabitants. Kneeling, she pulls out a cloth that she keeps for purposes like this and dips it into the cool waters.

"Come here, you have blood on your face." Hyejin startles, hand reaching up to check her face. Wheein brushed it away gently, bringing up the washcloth to gently wipe away the drying blood.

Hyejin huffs in consternation. "How embarrassing! I spent that whole meeting with dried blood on my face, how did no one say-"

"Think of it like this," One more swipe and the dried blood dissolves away. "It probably helped them listen to you."

"Really?"

"Yes, you were quite intimidating just then." Hyejin blinks, wide eyed. " _Princess_."

Hyejin taps her on the shoulder, petulant. "Hey. I'm a soldier first. "

"You did well," Wheein says, taking her hand in hers. Hyejin's fingers naturally interlace with hers. "You did the right thing."

The look in Hyejin's eyes is grateful. "I hope I did."

\----

Bodies are buried and the rites are observed, the commander reciting the wishes for a safe passing into the next world and blessings for the departed. The audience is comprised of soldiers as well as the more hardy scholars and the bandits, recently bandaged and fed, who insisted on seeing to the burial of their friends and family.

The atmosphere is simmering but grief is heavier. For now, Wheein does not expect a fight, nor does she expect a reconciliation any time soon.

There's some conversation about the state of the villages up north and several scholars have volunteered to travel there to aid the rehabilitation of the land, offers tentatively accepted by the grieving villagers.

It's late when they disperse back to the camps, with the moon high and stars sparkling solemnly above. Wheein takes a seat at a campfire manned by Taehyung and Jimin soon after, raising her eyebrows when she realises that between them, resting his head on Taehyung's thigh, is the boy she'd brought back-- Jungkook.

"You brought back a little bunny, did you know?" Taehyung pokes the boy's nose, laughing quietly when he scrunches his face up in complaint, turning his face away.

Wheein doesn't really understand Taehyung's talent for finding animal look-alikes for people but perhaps if she squints, the boy has something in common with the fleet footed forest animals. Something in the nose maybe.

Jimin pours a bowl of soup for her, chunks of root vegetables and some meat- dried and carried in their saddlebags for meals like this.

"Did he say anything about his family?" Wheein asks, before taking a long sip of the fortifying soup.

Jimin hums, uncertain. "He said he's alone...I didn't want to push him too far for details."

Wheein takes another look at the boy, somehow looking smaller in sleep than his size suggests. Once, she had been alone too, before she had Hyejin.

Around the shared fire, someone starts singing, a popular song from court. Fires of glory, eternal victory, acclaim and praise, the songs of legends.

Wheein wonders how much of the day would fit with such tales.

\---

Soldiers move to the tower to aid in repairs, aided by the villagers to the thanks of the scholars. Hyejin remains on site to mediate between the squabbles and tension that flares up every now and then, stern and foreboding. This, she'd learned from her mother and father, the grip of leadership and authority. It feels familiar to her. Slowly, slowly, the tower looks more like the one in tales spread to every corner of the kingdom; still battered and bruised but more like a shining spire of ivory.

Wheein is indispensable as always, her eyes and ears where she cannot be. Every day she brings tales of the relations Hyejin cannot observe directly and Hyejin's pleased to hear that people follow what she says, with little more than minimal grumbling.

The day news comes from the band that travelled to the border to inspect the lands hit with famine, Hyejin receives a letter she'd been expecting from her father.

Wheein finds her in her tent, away from the festivities outside, celebrating the news of growth on fields that would not yield a harvest, of the discovery of an iron mine in the hills surrounding the village.

"Hyejin?"

Bless her, Hyejin thinks fondly. Wheein has brought some honeyed cakes, simple yet delicious fare, her favourite.

She takes one up to bite, while Wheein reads the king's letter, runs a finger over the seal.

"He's sending you to the coast..."

"Apparently, I've outgrown the training grounds." Attached to the letter was the king's medallion, the one Hyejin had seen presented to envoys sent to represent the court beyond the borders.

Wheein blinks, stunned. "Is this a blessing or..." _Punishment_ is what goes unsaid; punishment for undermining her father's orders and acting with an authority that was not her own. It irks Hyejin to think of the events of the past few months in such a way. She had been _right_ , her father had been _wrong_ and her actions had gone some way to repair their family's reputation.

Whether he had meant for her assignment to the coastal kingdom to be exile or chance to grow is not clear in his letter, which is brief and clipped in tone. On one hand, it is an honour to represent the kingdom. On the other, she will be sent to a position of little influence, to aid the ambassador there, and definitely, _not_ to take any sort of initiative that could cost the kingdom diplomatically.

Hyejin decides to be optimistic. "Perhaps this is a lesson. One that I hope you will be with me to learn." She looks through her lashes to watch Wheein's reaction.

"As what?" Wheein's voice is warm, and she looks flattered, always a look that sends a thrill up Hyejin's spine to see, to know she can affect Wheein so.

"My parabatai." The words are impulsive; war has not been called for and the parabatai are only called for in war time. But Hyejin's blood is singing and hopeful.

Wheein does not disappoint her, reaching out to intertwine her fingers with Hyejin's. "You didn't have to ask. I would have followed you no matter what." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading and thanks for all your lovely comments!! they were so nice to read to while writing this and really gave me motivation to keep working on this :D

**Author's Note:**

> What is worldbuilding? I don't know!!!!! Leave a comment if you'd like!


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